


Codon Red

by Anonymous



Category: Fake News RPF, Gattaca (1997)
Genre: Crossover, Fusion, Gen, genetic manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 17:31:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: "Anyone seen Gattaca? Something where Stephen is a genetically selected superhuman (he is ridiculously beautiful) and Jon is a god-child/invalid (still ridiculously beautiful, but somehow considered 'imperfect')"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Codon Red

Stephen was designed to be intelligent. No amount of genetic manipulation could make you observant, but he liked to think he was anyway. He noticed things, like the way Jon's breath came in gasps after a relatively short time running, and the way he sometimes seemed unaware of how long his legs were.   
  
He notices when they were going through security on the final day of the Democratic Convention, Jon got more and more nervous the closer the got to the blood scanners.   
  
It's not that difficult to start play rough-housing by the check point, or to swipe his thumb once more on the scanner while tangling his fingers in Jon's, so the screen registers an authorized presence. The same security guard they'd run into on their previous days rolls her eyes as he drags Jon over to where Barack Obama is answering questions.   
  
He was designed to be intelligent. Jon, he suspects, wasn't designed at all.  
  
~*~  
  
"What gave me away?" Jon asks later, once they're back at the hotel. Jon had been replacing the desk chair when Stephen came out of the bathroom; he suspects that his friend had been checking for bugs.  
  
He thinks about brushing Jon off, but then again, he also thinks he knows Jon pretty well. If anyone could drive themselves to agonize over the fact that one of their friends might know about their god-childness and is willing to cover for them, it's him. Talking might stop him from worrying himself into the ground.   
  
(He's a little curious, too. But that has absolutely nothing to do with it, oh no sir.)  
  
"My first clue was your breathing," Stephen tells him. "You seem to have trouble sometimes. How bad is it?"  
  
"Asthma," Jon replies. "I've got an inhaler, it's not the end of the world."  
  
Stephen makes a mental note to ask him where it is later, just in case- but not now. "My second clue is how clumsy you are."  
  
"Last time I checked there wasn't a genetic basis for being a klutz," Jon points out.   
  
"Yes," Stephen says. "But there is for being short."  
  
Jon grimaces. "I actually stopped growing the natural way at about 5'7". The other two inches I had to get leg extensions for."  
  
Stephen stares. He's heard about those growing up, but it seemed so barbaric he'd assumed that someone would have come across something better by now. "Doesn't that involve breaking your legs, and screws, and-"  
  
"And anyone who tells you that it'll barely hurt and it'll be over sooner than you think is lying through their teeth," Jon tells him viciously.   
  
Stephen winces in sympathy.   
  
"Is there anything else?" Jon asks.  
  
"That's giving you away? No," Stephen answers. "You looked nervous at the check point. I figured better safe than sorry."  
  
Jon nods. "It won't happen again. It's just, the fake blood packet burst while we were in line. I should have just faked forgetting something and gone back here for a spare, but I panicked." He looks directly at Stephen for the first time that night. "It won't happen again," he repeats.  
  
"I hope not," Stephen replies. "Those things have always freaked me out. I don't want to have to swipe myself through them any more than strictly necessary."  
  
Jon grins, a little hesitantly.   
  
"So," Stephen says, injecting a little of his pundit's arrogance into his words. "Who are you _really_ , 'Jon Stewart'?"  
  
Jon smirks, and sticks out his hand. "Jonathan Leibowitz"  
  
Stephen takes it. "Pleasure to meet you, Jonathan."


End file.
